Mass Effect: Fall of Sorrows
by Sergeant K-BAR
Summary: Sequel to Nightmares Come True. In the grip of a galactic war, the Reapers arrive. Please Review. Chapter Four in the works. Should be up within a month.
1. The Battle of High Charity

_**High Charity, 2187, 2 hours before Reaper attack**_

The Covenant holy city of High Charity drifted through the vast expanse of the Phoenix Massing, effortlessly hiding its existence from the various races of Citadel space, searching for the relics of their gods. The Council of Hierarchs, the Prophets of Justice, Truth, and Reclamation, were in a heated debate over their conquests.

"Justice, for the last time, we will not accept any offer of surrender from the Defilers!" Truth shouted in a fervent denial. Justice shook his head at his blind devotion to the ancient ways.

"Brother, while I admire your devotion, it has blinded you to the best course of action," Justice replied, his voice somber and rumbling as though it were laced with thunder. "These 'Defilers' could be convinced to join our holy cause. They can yet see the light." Justice concluded, drumming his fingers together as if contemplating his next move.

"I agree with Justice. The Defile…err, Council races can be convinced to join us. Take into your consideration the Batarians, whose sole reason in joining us was the sharing of a common enemy. Now their technology has bolstered the defenses of our own, even enabling us to use these 'Mass Relays' that are so thoroughly spread throughout the Realm." Reclamation argued, favoring Justice's soundness of mind.

Truth glared at the other Hierarchs with an almost murderous intent. "I see that my validity is questioned," Truth spoke, his voice laced with hatred. "Nevertheless, I will not argue against the majority. We shall see if your discourse proves effective Justice. As for me, I will go and observe the exercises of the Fleet of Righteous Triumph. Meeting adjourned." With that statement, Truth made his way to the Holy City's defensive fleet, eager to see how the Batarian technology had been integrated.

_**Minos Wasteland, Exact location unknown**_

The Covenant Fleet Master Shelos Jad'dah, the first Batarian to hold such an honor, held his head high as he directed the actions of High Charity's defenses. "Good, good." Shelos said quietly as the various Covenant races glided through their tasks, effortlessly performing well outside the capacity of the Council races. Shelos' flagship, in a break from the standard tradition, was a mere frigate by Covenant standards. By Batarian standards, however, it was more than three times the size of a dreadnought. Formerly known as the _BRV Camala_, the ship now flew under the name _Eternal Justice_. Shelos, as well as a great many Batarians, enjoyed the regal naming conventions of the Covenant. Many other members of his species were in complete shock at the acceptance of their caste system, fully accepting such a thing. Shelos liked the Covenant, however zealous, more than the council by any rate.

"Fleet Master, our scanners have detected an unknown energy signature. It matches nothing in our database." one of the crew called out, alerting Shelos to a new anomaly on the _Eternal Justice's _scanners.

"Scan it through the Citadel databases and the Batarian Republic records." Shelos ordered, curious as to what this thing could be. Given their location, it was possible that this could be the Geth. Still, Shelos didn't want to take any unnecessary risks.

"Match acquired. Signature is similar to one ship in Citadel records." the crewmen reported, eyes locked to his viewscreen.

Shelos' upper eyes blinked twice, while his lower eyes were transfixed on the hologram that appeared on his own personal viewscreen.

"Fleet Master, your people would know this vessel as Sovereign, a dreadnought belonging to the-" the crewmen was cut off by a mechanized roar that reverberated through the entire defensive fleet.

"We are the Vanguard of your destruction. Resist us, and you will die. Fight us, and you will die."

Shelos immediately blinked all four of his eyes in shock. "Brace for evasive maneuvers! Get a targeting solution on that ship!" Shelos yelled, making all the preparations necessary for a first strike. Whether this was Geth or not, Shelos knew it had to be destroyed. "Prepare main plasma lines. Load pasic shells into the mass accelerators."

"Your weapons are useless." the mechanized voice called out across the ship's intercom, arrogance and pride noticeable even in its emotionless voice.

"Fleet master, the unknown ship has acquired multiple targeting solutions." another crewmen yelled, panic taking over his voice.

"Hold your ground and brace for impact!" Shelos roared as the first volley of molten slag crashed into the hull of his ship.

"Hull breach detected." the ship's AI chimed, it's alarm already to late for the crewmen on deck three, sublevel two.

"Stupid machine! Seal the breach! Are the lines ready?" Shelos yelled in an almost blind fury, throwing himself up from his console.

"Yes, but we still need a firing solution." the gunsmaster replied in a rushed tone.

"I don't give a vorcha's ass about the damned solutions, just shoot it!" Shelos roared, signalling the rest of the fleet to do the same, solutions or not.

"This hur..ur...urts y-y-y-you..." the unknown vessel alerted as the sea of plasma and MA rounds impacted the entirety of its hull, decimating the two-kilometer long vessel. Two more of its volleys rocked the fleet, overloading the powercores of the Jiralhanae frigate_ Bloodlust_, which triggered a chain reaction resulting in the destruction of three of the fifteen ships guarding High Charity.

"Fleet Master, we have successfully destroyed the unknown vessel." Shelos' first officer reported, a faint expression of relief on his face. Shelos had a well earned respect for the Sangheili. They were excellent warriors and crewmen. Shelos smiled and padded several of the keys on the holo-display in front of him. Nothing new.

"Fi-i-i-ght...and you wi-i-i-ill...die!" The mechanical voice roared one final time before Shelos could even think to relax.

"Fleet Master, activity spotted in nearby Mass Relay. Course of action?" the scanning officer yelled, sending the CIC into a quiet panic. Shelos merely stood in absolute fear of what gathered before him. More blinding flashes than he could count, leaving dark vessels in their wakes. This small flotilla of ships could easily clash with the his fleet and do major damage.

"Fight them to the last breath!" Shelos yelled as the crewmen scrambled to prepare firing solutions and the plasma lines. The remainder of the fleet took up a defensive formation around High Charity. The fight of their lives had just begun.

_**High Charity, Two hours into Battle of High Charity**_

The hulking forms of the Covenant ships glided through space with the grace of the whales of Kahje, plasma venting from their sides in a beutiful yet destroy show of violent glory. The Reapers, however, sent massive volleys of Thanix rounds and molten slag into the Covenant fleet at exceeding lightspeed, leaving gaping holes and twisted impact craters. The battle had become a stalemate. Reinforcements had come from the Eighth Fleet of Divine Retribution and the Second Fleet of Homogenous Justice, amplifying the number of Covenant ships by a factor of three. The Reapers, however, had them beat in terms of machine efficiency, able to produce firing solutions and movement algorithms faster than any organic lifeform oculd even comprehend. Fleet Master Shelos, in all his years serving in the Batarian Navy, and as a Pirate before that, had never been stretched thinner. Were it not for the masterminds of the Covenant, he would have been easily overwhelmed by the advanced tactics of the Reapers.

Two volleys of plasma washed over a duet of Reaper ships, reducing their hulls to molten shells. Their weapons, nearly fried from the heat, rapidly dscharged Thanix shots into the massive fleet of Covenant ships, punching mile wide holes into three seperate supercarriers. Another volley of superheated star material left the sheel inactive, as well as unrecognizeable. Shelos lead a bullrush against three of the large ships, stretching out into the twelve kilometer range, in order to buy time for the main gun on the Jiralhanae's _Bloodied Spirit_ to acquire a solution on the Repaers and pelt their flotilla with explosive shells. Two more vessels melted under the intense heat from the plasma, adding to the reaper death-toll.

"Fleet Master, solutions are acquired!" one of Shelos' crewmen yelled, gaze locked on his malfunctioning holoscreen. Shelos, in a nearly uncontrollable rage, roared into his intercom.

"Onward, brothers! Tonight, we dine with the Gods!" the young Batarian Fleet Master shouted as the Reapers fired salvos of molten metal into his formation. Shelos stood up and gazed into the very depths of the Reaper flotilla, eyes wide with a reverential awe.

"Batarian, you may win this battle, but our war is far from over." the Reaper amalgam roared into his ship's com network. Shelos smiled and began to laugh maniacally.

"Fire!" he ordered, sending several volleys of MA shells into the Reaper flotilla gathered before him. Two more volleys of molten slag rocked his squadron, and then they vanished in a flash of blue light.

"Brothers, tonight we dine...with the Gods!"


	2. Bloodbaths, Politics, and Paintball?

_**Triumphant Vindicator, 2187**_

The Prophet of Mercy sat anxiously awaiting the awakening of his Arbiter, who had been in a near death state since the Battle of Erroneous Injustice, otherwise known as the Battle of Turning Points. The prophet sighed as numerous Batarian, Sangheili, and Unggoy doctors worked the advanced Covenant medical facilities of the _Triumphant Vindicator_. By some miraculous feat of chance, or possibly even divine intervention, the Arbiter had managed to survive the detonation of a Convenant slip-space drive.

Now, however, he was being treated for severe burns, broken bones, muscle damage, and other wounds sustained from the battle itself. Batarian cybernetics, once integrated with the glorious technology of the Forerunner, had been able to restore his body to a beyond perfect condition.

His right eye, which had been lost during the battle, had been replaced by a cybernetic that resembled the eye structure of the Oracle. The prophet patiently awaited his revival, desperately hoping that his best warrior would survive his ordeal.

"Prophet, he wakes!" one of the Sangheili doctors yelled as the hulking form of the Arbiter lifted into a sitting position on the table. The Prophet smiled and made his way into the room, anxious to inform the Arbiter of the various happenings.

"Noble Prophet, I must ask you, why am I in this place?" the Arbiter asked, clutching at his chest as his muscles protested his every movement.

"You have been rebuilt, Arbiter. You barely managed to survive the implosive of a slip-space drive, which also managed to take out a good portion of our fleet." The Prophet of Mercy explained, filling in the various details as the Arbiter worked himself through the various medical examinations to make sure he was functioning properly.

"You may notice some…improvements as well." The prophet mentioned as he departed, a devious grin appearing as he noticed the Arbiter's expression. Eager to test these 'improvements', the Arbiter departed to his favorite training grounds within the ship. He took three dozen heretic prisoners with him.

_**Pit of Trials, 2187**_

Tribal beats echoed throughout the cavernous arena deep within the Covenant supercarrier, the chanting crowd slowly increasing in number. The show was merely minutes from beginning.

"Soldiers, warriors, and all brethren members of the holy Covenant," the commentator yelled into the loudspeaker, his voice becoming a thunderous roar that shook the very bones of the warship. "Prepare yourselves for a glorious display of might and valor!"

The crowd roared in response, its various member species anxious to see the bloodshed.

"I welcome you all to the Trial of Fires!" the voice roared out again, eliciting cheers and increasing the chants of the crowd. Members now drummed themselves on the stands, adding a soft rumble to the atmosphere.

"Now, for the victims," the commentator yelled, gesturing at the far end of the arena. A large gathering of heretic Sangheili, interspersed with the rare Jiralhanae, stood there awaiting their punishment. "I give you the Lost Army of Eternal Damnation!"

The crowd roared in dissapproval of the deserters, all heretics for abandoning their brother-in-arms. The heretics themselves stood their ground, ready for whatever monstrosity would be unleashed upon them.

"And now for the executioner! You knew him as Rylus Thal'Vedumee. Know you know him as the Terror of Ferros, the Slayer of Thorns! I give you the Bane of all Heresy! The one, the only, The Arbiter!"

The crowd roared with delight as the hulking form of the Arbiter entered the arena, anxious to cleanse these worthless heretics from his sight.

"Gentlemen, you know the rules. Your innocence shall be proven in glorious battle. Survive, and you will be set free. Die, and your names will be burned from our records. It will be as though you were never even born." The commentator roared one final time, sealing the fate of the heretics.

The Arbiter began his traditional death march as the musicians began playing their ancient tribal beats and filling the atmosphere with an air of violent death. The heretics began their march toward the Arbiter, thinking that they had the advantage of numbers. Thirty-six to one, those seem like favorable odds, right?

_**Citadel, Council Chambers, 2187**_

"Anderson, how are the Alliance schematics coming along?" Velarn asked, mandibles flaring with anticipation.

"Well, Velarn, I'll show you the holos." Anderson said as he keyed in some code sequence on his terminal. The re-writing of the Treaty of Farixen was complete. The ration was basically shifted from 5:3:1, to a more centralized 15:1, meaning that, for every non-council race dreadnought, the council could have fifteen.

"By the spirits, what is that?" Velarn exclaimed when he saw the massive ship schematic. It was nearly twice the size of a standard dreadnought.

"That is an old UNSC design from back in humanity's early days. It is roughly two kilometers in length, which is slightly smaller than the average Covenant frigate, I believe." Anderson explained. Noticing the look on the councilors faces, he smiled. "We built 'em big."

"Why weren't we notified of these designs earlier?" Drin asked, his eyes rapidly surveying the large hologram in front of him.

"They were discontinued a decade after the Mars discovery. With Prothean tech to work with, we had safer FTL and a more sensible way to build our ships." Anderson replied, his tone calm and collected.

"Wait, did you say **safer **FTL?" Tevos asked, curious as to whether she had misheard Anderson.

"Yes, I did. In the early 2040s, humanity discovered a form of FTL we called slip-space, the same type of FTL we theorize the Covenant ships use. The principals behind it are severely complicated. Basically, it involves a particle accelerator punching a hole in an area of localized space. The travel itself occured in an area between dimensional membranes known as slipstream. The rupture in localized space, however, could bring about catastrophic results if poorly delivered." Anderson stated, drawing expression of awe and disbelief from the councilors.

"With slip-space, we could basically travel anywhere in the known universe without the need of a Mass Relay." Anderson finished, keying information about slip-space into his console.

"Anderson, if you could go anywhere, why did you abandon this technology?" Drin asked, curious about the unknown sciences behind slip-space travel.

"Because it was heavily flawed and extremely dangerous. Only one in every five jumps were successful, and those were just the in-system jumps. We'll never know if the out-system jumps ever reached there destination unless we find a dead ship orbiting an unknown planet with an unknown colony of humans on it." Anderson explained, his voice rising in slight agitation. Discussing slip-space fatalities always made him uneasy. "That, and if a slip-space drive misfired you got an entire ship warped into oblivion with no way to return. There's still debris from drive misfires floating around the Sol system's asteroid belt."

"Alright, Anderson, but what about the main gun on this thing?" Velarn asked, curious about the weapons capabilities of such the ship.

"Well, Velarn, the UNSC ship design were basically giant guns with an engine and living quaters attached," Anderson elaborated, earning a slight grin from the turian councilor.

"The weapon, a Magnetic Accelerator Cannon or MAC Gun, was the single most powerful weapon ever invented by humanity until the Mars discovery." Anderson continued, earning an outright sadistic smile from Velarn. "After the discovery, we discontinued it due to Earth regulations on WMDs. With Prothean tech applied, the MAC Gun redesign concept became known among the R&D team as the 'Planet Buster'. The system itself was powered by a series of extremely pwerful electromagnets. It was basically a giant ass rail gun."

"Alright, Anderson. Can the redesign be finished?" the other councilor, Drin, asked, also curious about the weapon.

"Yes, although it will break every weapons treaty in Citadel space. Considering the circumstance, however, that may be necessary." Anderson answered, noticing the expressions on the councilors' faces at the mention of the words 'weapon treaty'.

"Alright...I say go for it." Velarn stated, nodding in approval and cementing his vote in the logs.

"If galactic stability is threatened, then you have my vote, Councilor Anderson." Tevos said, reluctantly registering her vote in the terminal.

Drin was the last to register. Without a word, he merely nodded and input his vote into his console.

"So the vote passes. Good," Anderson said, first to speak after a long and drawn out silence. A quiet beeping alerted him to a message sent directly to his omni-tool. "Ah, the first fleet is here for inspection. Councilors, would you like to see the new ships in person?"

_**Pit of Trials, 2187**_

The cheers of the crowd were a thunderous and deafening roar as the slaughter of the heretics began. The Arbiter was still on his approach when the first of the heretics, a Jiralhanae by the name of Marius, charged at him armed with a Type-505 Energized Battle-Axe.

The Arbiter ignitied his own pair of ornate plasma swords and charged back at the foolish Jiralhanae with a loud, bestial roar resounding across the arena. The Jiralhanae attempted to dodge, only managing to avoid impalement.

The tips of the Arbiter's energy swords still ripped into his thick hide, causing a deep roar of pain and anger to echo throughout the arena, causing the animalistic nature of the crowd to increase until it was nothing more than a frenzied thrall, its constituents anxiously awaiting the death of the poor souls condemened to fight in the Pit.

The Arbiter soaked in the cheers of the roaring crowd as Marius attempted to cleave his axe into him. The Arbiter's blade effortlessly carved through the haft of Marius' axe, sending the axe-head spiraling through the air.

A shocked Marius' was left unable to defend himself as the Arbiter proceeded to carve him up like a thanksgiving turkey, Marius' corpse a shattered memory of its former glory.

Much to the Arbiter's satisfaction, three armored Sangheili warriors, former Zealots by the make of their armor, lept upon him from the nearby rocks. Smiling as they descended, the Arbiter skillfully switched from his blades to a device that could only be described as an energy lance, only this one was made to collapse for easier storage.

The former zealots gasped axs the Arbiter effortlessly dodged their attack and began his retaliation by impaling one of them through the chest and throwing him into the air, purple blood spraying onto the arena floor as he did so.

The two surviving zealots, both swordsmen of excellent skill, rolled to their opposite sides as the Arbiter charged them, dodging his merciless spear charge.

One of the zealots, a young warrior by the name of Rtas, dove back at the Arbiter in an attempt to avenge his fallen comrade. Swingly his blade in a wide, confusing arc, the zealot hit home as his blade ripped into the Arbiter's armor, leaving a nasty scar across the stubborn material.

The Arbiter, enraged at having been struck by such an underling, collapsed the spear to half its normal size and spun around, bringing its blade deep into Rtas' chest. A spray of purple blood washed over the Arbiter as Rtas spat in his face, resulting in the spear being fully extended through Rtas' spine.

Now alone on the battlefield, the survivng zealot accepted his fate as the Arbiter turned toward him. Arming four plasma grenades, the zealot charged the Arbiter in a suicide run. "I die so that others may live!" he yelled as he tackled the hulking form of the Arbiter. A flash of blue light bathed the arena before revealing the lone form of the Arbiter, his armor covered with scorches, scores, and other various battle-scars.

Grabbing his spear, the Arbiter failed to notice the stealthed Sangheili waiting in the nearby rocks. "Die!" he yelled as the Arbiter turned to face him. His sword in hand and ingited in a blaze of glory, he was shocked he he found himslef suddenly thrown into the air by an invisible force. "Witchcraft!" he yelled as the same force slammed him into the arena floor.

The Arbiter merely smiled as his instincts kicked in, fully enjoying the power of his 'improvements'. Another cloaked warrior charged him as he sheathed his collapsed spear. Effortlessly side-stepping the reckless charge, the Arbiter swiftly brought his knee into the warrior's chest, the force cracking his ribs.

Smiling with vindictive pride at the sound of breaking bone, he followed with a quick twitch of his calf muscle, creating a biotic shockwave inside the unfornate heretic's chest cavity that sent splintered bone in all direction. The Sangheili collapsed onto the arena floor in a pool of blood, choking on his own ribcage.

The crowd roared as the Arbiter slaughtered the heretics, their chant of "Ar-bit-er, Ar-bit-er!" growing louder with each kill. The Arbiter himself still beaming with a blood fueled pride at his new combat prowess. Two more Jiralhanae warriors charged at him, one a former chieftan. His Gravity Hammer swing wildly through the air, the Arbiter dodge-rolled and retrieved his spear, only to end up on the receiving end of the other warrior's tackle.

"Die, folly of the Prophet!" the heretic yelled as he charged into the Arbiter, his massive form slamming the Sangheili warrior into the ground with a satisfying thud. The brute force of the tackle managed to temporarily disorient the Arbiter. Using this to his advantage, the Jiralhanae began mercilessly beating into the Arbiter's face and upper body, loud meaty thuds and smacks echoing through the arena.

The Arbiter's anger slowly built with each impact, to a point were his blood was nearly boiling. As his temper finally snapped and he entered a blood-rage, the Jiralhanae was catapulted roughly thirty meters into the air before being returned to the ground with the force of a small bomb. Satisfied, the Arbiter shifted his attention to the next squad of heretic soldiers that would attempt to kill him.

"I will avenge thee, brethren!" one of the Sangheili heretics roared as he hefted a large rock at the Arbiter, narrowly missing his head by mere centimeters. The Arbiter slid his face-plte shut as he reached for his own Type-74 Collapsable War-Axe.

"Fight me like a _mak'ala_!" the heretic yelled, pounding his fist against his chest. "No weapons, only fists!"

The Arbiter smiled at this and dropped his war-axe to the arena floor. Opening his face-plate, the Arbiter growled in response. "If it pleases you, Heretic."

The heretic Sangheili roared as he charged the Arbiter, eager to make him eat his words. "Prepare to meet your ancestors, worm!" he yelled as he swung at the Arbiter, desperate for his punch to make contact.

The Arbiter merely chuckled as the pathetic warrios punch impacted his face, not even drawing an ounce of blood. The other warrior, enraged by his arrogance, swung back even harder, this time splitting the skin on the Arbiter's lower left mandible. Touching his fingers to the wound, the Arbiter stared ominously at his assailant. "So, you can make me bleed!" he yelled, allowed the heretic another swing, this one landing n his mid-torso.

"Fight back! Or are you afra-*ack*" the heretic gasped for breath as the Arbiter's fist closed tightly around his airways, cutting off the pressious flow of life-sustaining gases to the unfortunate heretics lungs.

"So you wish" the Arbiter answered, throwing the Sangheili across the arena like he were made of feathers. The crowd roared with delight at the Ariter's show of strength.

As he approached the sputtering Sangheili, he smiled. He hadn't fought hand to hand in years. "So, *cough*, is this how it ends?" the heretic asked him, blood trickling from his mouth.

"Yes, heretic bastard, this is how it ends. With thunderous applause!" the Arbiter shouted, playing up to the crowd. With their chants now a defening roar, the Aribter brought his foot down on the heretics weak skull, crushing it beneath him. The crowd cheered one final time as the last group of heretic charged the Arbiter in a death-run. If they go down, he goes down with them.

_**SSV Normandy, Shepard's Wolf-Pack, 2187**_

Once again, the confines of Deck 5 were ringing with the sounds of gunfire. This time, paint-rounds were being used instead of stun rounds. And the main crew was invited.

"Oh, what the hell?" Shepard said as he exited the elevator. "EDI, who painted my fucking observation window?"

EDI's holographic avatar appeared on the nearby console. "No one, Commander. Those are merely missed shots from earlier rounds of Team Deathmatch."

The Commander sighed. _Why the fuck are they using paint rounds?_, he asked himself as he descended into the live fire course. As he entered, the sounds of gunfire slowly came to a halt.

"What?" he asked as he observed the gathering of troops before him. Among them were Dervish, Noble Team, and RED and BLUE teams.

"Paintball, Commander. Just a little fun with training." Dervish explained, removing his multi-colored helmet with a laugh and a cocky smile.

Shepard shook his head at the sight. "Paintball? Well then, what the hell happened? It looks like a fucking hippie blew up in here!" Shepard exclaimed, making the crew laugh. The Commander shook his head with defeat.

"Hey, boss, don't worry. We'll get this cleaned up in an hour or two." Jun said with a smile, resting his rifle across his shoulders. The Spartans had fully integrated with the Normady's crew, forming a respectable comeradery with them.

Shepard laughed slightly at Jun's remark. "An hour? And what about your armor?" Shepard asked in a half-joking tone.

"We leave it as is and fight anyways!" Jorge yelled, punding a tye-dye fist against a multi-colred chest plate. The crew burst into laughter again at his statement.

Shepard looked around Deck 5 again. The whole of his team was gathered here, and they were al covered in varrying shades of paint. "So, is it too late for one mroe player?" Shepard asked as he returned his gaze to John-117, the leader of BLUE Team.

"Nah, Shep. You're just in time for round four." he said, hefting him an assault rifle and the last set of clean armor on the deck.

_**High Charity, 2187**_

The Prophets gathered in their inner sanctum as the extensive repairs of the Holy City began. The Reapers, or Old Machines as the Luminary identified them, had left their mark on High Charity. Casualties were high, considering the Covenan'ts recent success, and the damages to the city itself were fairly severe. The worst High Charity had seen in ages.

"I do not believe that we should seek the aid of those damned Defilers!" Truth yelled at his fellow hierarchs in zealous rage.

"Truth, if you will not see reason, then we shall have to call your judgement unsound and have you deposed!" Justice replied, himself angry with Truth's blind devotion to their cause. While admirable, it has cause the prophet to reject all logc options and fight a losing war on two fronts.

"I agree with jJustice. You reasoning is unsound. These 'Old Machines' managed to not only surprise us, but we also have reason to believ that they outnumber us." Reclamation stated in attempt to appeal to Truth's weakened common sense. "After all, were it not for the reinforcements, we would surely not be here to argue!"

Truth furrowed his brow as he retreated into the unsound confines of his feeble mind. "I see. So, in the face of adversity, my brethren turn to doctrines of Heresy!" Truth roared, accusing the other prophets of the highest crime in the Covenant.

"You dare?" Justice asked, his tone heavy with authority. Even if they were heretics, thruth had no evidence to prove them guilty of such charges.

"Yes, I dare! You would turn us over to the ways of a world forsaken by our Gods! A world where petty alliances and friendships mean more than eternal salvation!" Truth roared.

Justice and Reclamtion shook their heads in disapproval. It seemed that Truth's mind was lost. "Brother, you leave us no choice. I the High Prophet of Justice," Justice began.

"And I, the High Prophet of Reclamation," Reclamation continued.

"Do hereby invoke the Rite of Annulment. You, the former High Prophet of Truth, are hereby removed from your position on our council on the grounds of unsound judgement. Guards, remove him!" both Prophets spoke in rehearsed unsion. It was not the first time they had invoked that rite.

"You cannot do this to me! I am the only sound mind on this council!" Turht yelled as the honor guards dragged him out of the inner sanctum. "You adopt doctrines of heresy! You do the work of devils!" he yelled, proving his madness to the corwd of onlookers gathered around the disturbance he had created.

"Your day will come, you hear me? Your day will-" the former prophet was cut off as one of the honor guards 'escorting' him out of the sanctum drove his fist into his face, knocking aged prophet out for some time.

"Brother, I fear we ave made a terrible mistake." Reclamation whispered as he and Justice returned to their chambers.

"How so?" Justce inquired, himself slightly curious to Reclamation's sudden change of heart.

"Because, this may cause a Great Schism amongst our supporters and Truth's. You and I both know that his Viceroy, Mercy, has been wavering on his support recently. However, given the circumstance, he may separate and take his share of the fleet." Reclamation explained causing Justice to raise an eyebrow.

"Brother, Mercy will not leave us. All we need is to offer him Turth's position and we shall have our stability. Besides, the Viceroy Mercy has not spoken to Truth for the last three annual cycles." Justice replied, "The boy will fully understand Truth's descent into madness. Even he knows that blindl devotion leads to unsound judgement."

_**Pit of Trials, Triumphant vindicator, 2187**_

"Death to your Prophets!" one of the three remaining heretic roared as the Aribter sank his blades deep into the poor soul's chest. The crowd roaredas the last to heretics anxiously tried to escape the arena.

The Arbiter rose to his feet and slowly approached one of the survivors. "No, please, don't, AAAGH!" he screamed as the Arbiter lifted him into the air and slammed him into the wall with a powerful display of biotic godhood.

"Now for you." he growled as he sighted the last surviving heretic. This one, hwever, had more courage and misplaced bravery than most of the other heretics. While the others had some foolish hope of survival, this one had accepted his fate. He knew he would die, but he was going to die fighting.

"Have at me!" he yelled as he charged the Arbiter, grabbing one of the Arbiter's discarded weapons as he approached the monstrous warrior. The Arbiter chuckled as the fool charged at him.

"As you wish." he said quietly. As the warrior drew near, the Arbiter lunged into his charge, vaulting him over his back like he were a mere child. The warrior, covered in blood from the arena floor stood and charged him again. Smiling, the Arbiter once again launched the poor fool into the air, this time using his biotics to redirect him into one of the boulders within the arena.

As he hit the floor, the warrior looked up at him and laughed. "Is that the best you can do, Father?" he stated, sending a pang of shock into the Arbiter's heart. "What's wrong? Do you not even recognize your own son? Your offspring? Are you that asha-" the boy warrior was cut off as the Arbiter slammed him into the ground with his biotics. As the warrior rebounded, he slammed him again, and again, until his bones were pulverised and blood poured out of his sides like waterfalls.

"I have no son, no kin, no offspring." he said quietly, not wanting the crowd to hear him. Deep inside, he was saddened by this discourse. His own son, a heretic. Were he not the Arbiter he would be forever shamed.

"I am the Arbiter, and I have no mercy!" he roared triumphantly as he plunged his energy sword deep into the spine of his former son. The crowd roared with excitement at the spectacle. The Arbiter, a lone warrior of unparalleled skill, had slauthered thirty-six heretic warriors by himself.

"Warriors and priesthood of the Covenant, I give you your champion!" the commentator yelled as the Arbiter solemly marched out of the arena. The remainder of his night would be spent alone in his private quarters, mourning his loss.

**AN: **Hey guys! hope you are enjoying the sequel! For those of you who haven't read Nightmares Come True, stop reading this and go read it! It's good, and you'll have no idea where the story is otherwise!


	3. Lost Spirits

**AN: **Hi readers! Sorry it's taken so long to get this out, but I've been busy with other stories and getting into college. Anyways, thanks for your support and hope you enjoy!

_**SSV Normandy, Shepard's Wolf-Pack, 2187**_

Commander Shepard stared at his screen, scanning through data coming in from the Council, which consisted of reports on the new ship designs commissioned to fight the Covenant. Shepard sighed, as the council had insisted on sending him two more frigates, the old warships _In Amber Clad_ and _Forward Unto Dawn_, both ships easily outclassing every other vessel in his flotilla. The one thing he desperately needed was a base of operations, because this many ships in the Traverse were hard to keep out of sight.

"Commander, the Illusive Man's got a message for you." Joker called over the PA system. Commander Shepard rose in response and made his way to the comm. room. Whatever data the Illusive Man had, it would prove useful in the fight against the Covenant and, although Shepard didn't want to admit it, his help was needed in this war.

As shepard entered the comm room, he underwent the usual process of accessing the quantum entanglement communicator, which allowed near-instant communication between its users. As the holo-projectors activated, Shepard found himself in a representation of the Illusive Man's office, with the smug bastard sitting a few feet in front of him, smoking an expensive cigar.

"Commander, a pleasure to see you again," The Illusive Man said, dropping the residual ashes of his cigar into his chair's built-in ash tray. He smiled before he continued speaking. "We've found something interesting." He said, causing Shepard to raise and eyebrow.

"What?" Shepard said plainly, curiosity rising inside him.

"Our analysts have found residual Cherenkov radiation in an uncharted system on the far rim. I've already sent you the coordinates, and I believe it would be in your best interest to investigate." The Illusive Man said in closing. Shepard merely nodded and closed the link between them.

The Commander approached the map-screen in the CIC and input the Illusive Man's coordinates, taking them into a system that wasn't even properly named.

"Commander, we have arrived at your destination. Anomalies detected." EDI said as the Normandy's FTL disengaged. Shepard ordered the AI to put them on screen, and what he discovered sent him reeling into shock.

"Joker, get me a line to the Council, NOW!" he yelled, an urgent and excited tone in his voice.

_**Council Chambers, Citadel, 2187**_

"Well Anderson, your new fleet has proven impressive." Velarn said, envy heavy in his voice. Anderson smiled at the turian's subtle envy of the old UNSC models, modernized with the fusion of prothean-based technology into their systems. In reality, the Alliance had always kept the funding and resources for these ships at the ready, in case such extreme measures would ever be needed.

"I'm glad you're impressed. Two of our older frigates were sent to Shepard's fleet, as you are aware." Anderson continued, looking out of the chamber's viewport. The vast expanse of the Serpent Nebula spread out before him in a brilliant display of nebular formation. It was a sight that never grew old for Anderson. The other Councilor had begun discussing the new fleet preparations, as well as the sharing of certain schematics within their respective species. Velarn still couldn't get over the size of the main guns on the ships.

Suddenly, Anderson's attention was drawn to the Council's newest toy, a quantum entanglement communicator. The message panel was lit up like the Fourth of July. As if on cue, the Councilors' personal VI chimed in on their discussion.

"Incoming message from Special Tactics and Reconnaisance Officer John Shepard." the digital voice called out. Anderson looked back at the other Councilors before saying moving into the communicator's display platform. The others followed as the semi-transparent form of Commander Shepard came into view.

"Shepard! What's the news?" Anderson greeted, his tone friendly and informal. Shepard smiled an excited, heroic smile before making his announcement.

"We found it." he said, crossing his arms and awaiting Anderson's response. The other Councilors looked at each other in an attempt to understand Shepard's statement.

Anderson's eyes went wide at Shepard's report. "Are you sure? Is it really the-"

"If I had any doubt I wouldn't have called you, especially not on this chanel." Shepard said, cutting Anderson off mid-sentence.

"Then it's really...I don't believe this." Anderson shed a lone tear before regaining his composure. "Where is it?"

"Excuse me, but before you continue, would you mind explaining to us what exactly you have found?" Drin asked, speaking for the other councilors as well as himself.

Shepard grinned and let out a low chuckle. "Of course. We found the _Spirit of Fire_." he said in response, his grin turning into a boyish smile.

"The what?" Velarn asked, curious as to what the _Spirit of Fire_ is. Anderson looked back at him with a triumphant look on his face.

"The Spirit of Fire was a UNSC Colony class vessel. It pulled a slip-space jump about a three years before the Mars discovery. It was the reason we outlawed slip-space travel." Anderson explained, a tragic tone bleeding into his voice. Shepard stepped forward to take over the explaination.

"Eight million humans were thought lost in the ensuing disaster. We sent it out with two frigates and roughly one-and-a-half million troops, maybe more, in order to establish our first official extra-solar colony since the assumed failure of the Manswell Expedition." Shepard continued, watching the expressions of the Councilors shifting around as they took in the infromation.

"When they jumped, the rupture formed was erratic and unpredictable. It held for about three minutes, then collapsed. There wasn't even a debris field." Anderson finished, having regained his composure. Shepard stepped back and let the counilors soak in the old history. When he saw them looking back at him, he continued his report.

"We had thought it lost," Shepard began, re-stating the Alliance's stance on the vessel. "Until now. We found it adrift in an uncharted system in the far rim. I'm putting together a team to investigate the world that the Spirit of Fire is orbiting."

"Why not investigate the ship?" Drin asked, stroking his chin out of curiousity.

"The ship's as good as derelict. It's got a decent amount of bio-signs, but there's no way to board without getting turned into slag." Shepard answered, pulling up a holo of the planet and the Spirit of Fire and highlighting the armaments on the ancient vessel. "And the planet below has shown signs of rudimentary colony development. We figure if we go planetside, we'd have a better chance of re-establishing contact with the Spirit of Fire's passengers, or at least their descendants."

The councilors returned to discussing the information amongst themselves, while Anderson looked back at Shepard with teary eys and mouthed "thank you" before closing the chanel. As Shepard left his comm room, he said "You're welcome, old friend." quietly and made his way to the cargo level to brief his strike team on their mission.

_**SSV Normandy, Cargo Hold, **UNKNOWN STAR SYSTEM**, 2187**_

The Spartans were ecstatic once the brief ended. Anxious to see the Spirit of Fire for themselves, they geared up and prepared themsleves for a low orbit covert drop. Shepard's team would rendezvous with them the following morning and establish a basecamp along an obscure ridge. RED Team would drop in with the Bullfrogs, who would make the descent in the Hammerhead. Noble team would drop in accompanied by John-117 from BLUE Team. Shepard's team would make the descent with the reaminder of BLUE Team in the Kodiak.

Shepard smiled as the Normandy approached the first drop point. The Spartans were famous for these jumps. No HEVs, no dropships, and often no parachutes. Only a weapons kit and a basic re-entry pack. It was the stuff of legends.

"Approaching drop-point one." Joker called out over the PA. Noble Team and Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 moved toward the opening in the cargo bay. Cater looked at Noble Team, then at the Master Chief.

"Noble! Ready?" He barked over the teamcomm.

"Sir, yes sir!" Noble Team responded in unision. Satisfied, Carter looked at the Chief, who was their honored guest for this mission. John-117 merely nodded in response.

Carter looked back out towards the rapidly approaching drop. Forcing out any hesitation, Carter put one foot forward and shouted "JUMP!" over the teamcomm before entering freefall. Noble team followed like lambs to the slaughter. As they fmade formation in their descent, Carter noticed the bulky forms of Jorge-052 and John-117 racing past them at breakneck speeds. The elder Spartans had entered the traditional S-II bulletdive.

"Holy shit!" Emile yelled as he saw the two plummet towards the planet, both of them barely even capable of being called blurs. Jun spun around in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the SPirit of Fire before he hit the burn point. Kat, who had remained silent, let herself drift in a few daredevil stunts and found herself smacking into Noble Six on more than one occaision. Carter, through sheer force of will, kept his eyes locked onto the waypoint on his HUD as the planet's surface rapidly approached. As Noble Team hit the burn point, Carter ordered them all to streamline themselves in order to minimalize burn damge.

"Hell yeah!" Emile yelled as he locked his arms together and straightened out his body, plummeting ever closer to the surface.

Over the teamcomm, Carter could ear Jorge and the Master Chief having some kind of arguement, or maybe it was just friendly competition.

"Fifty thousnad says I hit first!" Jorge yelled at John-117, erupting intro laughter as flames danced across his armor.

"Triple says I land of my feet!" John replied, picking up speed in his nearly suicidal dive. Jorge pulled pack and spun out as the Chief continued to race groundside.

"You were always the daredevil, Spartan Commander!" Jorge said as he stabilized his dive. He looked at John's marker on his HUD and grinned as he saw it plummet below five kilometers.

"See you topside, old friend!" Jorge said as he began his own plummet towards the surface.

John's warning signs told him to deploy his chute. He merely smiled as the ground raced toward him, an ocean of green and brown rapidly approaching him. As he dipped under the last kilometer, he pulled his arms back and braced for impact.

Jorge laughed as he saw the plume of dust and debris erupting from John's impact sight. "You crazy bastard!" he chuckled as he deployed his drag chute, bracing for impact as the break-away metal pieces nearly incinerated in the drop.

_****UNKNOWN PLANET** Basecamp, 2187**_

Shepard surveyed the basecamp. It was simple enough, with plenty of surveilance gear and recon equipment, even a small armory of sorts. Shepard had even smuggled a ping-pong table to the camp for recreation, should there be any need. He smiled as he finished his sweep, proud of his work. "You did good, Shep." he said quietly as he walked back to his tent which, as always, had Tali inside waiting for him.

Noble Team had cattered themselves along the ridge, with Carter and Jun taking overwatch positions as Emile, Kat, and Six attempted to approach the colony, hoping to get a good, close up look at it. Jorge patrolled the ground with John, the two of them sharing old war stories ranging from simple insurrections to the few battles they'd had with the Covenant. Carter shook his head, trying to clear out any distractions. His helmet's binocular function was proving incredibley useful in scouting the colony.

The colony itself was a typical military firebase layout. There was a main structure in the center with several structures surrounding it, as well as several colonial necessities radiating outward in a symetrical pattern. At the edge were the cordons, the checkpoints, and the various other defensive measures established to keep the colony secure. "Nothing new. Looks just like any of the old firebases back home." Cater reported, scanning the clolony with his viewfinder, taking note of any and all patrol routes throughout the visible section of the colony.

"Alright, keep up the recon." Shepard replied. The Commander looked around his tent before taking a look at Tali, who was bent over a computer terminal, obviously hard at work. He sighed and returned to the map that had been easily made by Joker after a few quick passes over the planet. It was basic satellite imagery, along with some topography and a heat map of the colony. Mostly useless, but it was a start.

RED Team was getting itchy. Since basecamp had been established, the only thing they'd done was haul gear and do a little bit of recon. Jerome sighed heavily as he looked out at the colony, desperate for some action. Not necessarily anything violent, just something other than sitting on their trillion dollar asses playing ping-pong. He looked over at the command tent and shook his head. At the rate things were going, he would have preferred to stay on the Normandy.

_****UNKNOWN PLANET** Unidentified Colony, 2187**_

Lieutenant Colonel James Duncan watched over the patrol routes of his marines. Cutter had sent him the video footage of the objects streaking through the night sky, and James had sent scouts out early the following morning to investigate. He looked down at his computer screen, looking over his status reports and hoping contact with the UNSC ould be re-established. Everyone had their doubts about that matter, however, as it had been over forty years since their last contact with UNSC Headquaters back on Earth.

"Patrol One, status report." Duncan ordered, desperate to keep track of this mission.

"Scopes are green, sir. Haven't found anything yet." one of the patrolmen replied, eliciting a dissatisfied sigh from Lieutenant Duncan.

"What about Patrol Two? Have you found anything?" he asked, a bit desperate for something other than the usual "no."

"This is Patrol Two. We've got an impact crater, along with charred pieces of metal. They kinda look like drag-chutes, Lieutenant." Patrolman del Rio replied.

"Impact crater? And a drag-chute? Patrol Three, what've you found?" He barked into the radio. His only response was static. "Patrol Three? What the hell is going on?"

After another buzz of static, one of the Patrolmen finally reported in. "Nothing so far, sir. A few jumps and scares, but nothnig major...Hey Jenkins, the fuck you think you're doing?"

"Could've sworn I saw something moving over there. Didn't you see it?" Jenkins replied, pointing towards into the thicker part of the jungle.

"Jenkins, I swear you're losing it. Hey! Where the fuck are you going?" The squad leader yelled.

"Patrol Three? Patrol Three? Answer me!" Lt. Duncan yelled over the radio. Part of him wished he was with them, investigating the jungle, looking for whatver streaked through the sky last night.


	4. Operation: CALLBACK

_****_**AN: **Sorry for the long wait readers! Hope you enjoy the newest addition to the story!**  
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_****UNKNOWN PLANET** Shepard's Basecamp, 2187**_

Shepard sighed as Kat, Emile, and Six returned to camp. Agitated with their performance during the recon operation he assigned them, he hoped that their superior SPARTAN Training hadn't failed them and that it was merely a fluke.

"You spooked one of the patrols. Now the colony's gone into a yellow alert," Shepard said, his head tilted with disapproval. Although an honest mistake, he knew the noise reduction systems in the SPI Armor would have been better suited to the operation than a simple tactical cloak. Carter marched into the group from behind Shepard, stopping when he reached the Commander's side.

"With all due respect, sir, I'll handle the scolding of my own team." Carter said, casting a disappointed glance at Emile and Kat.

Shepard quietly looked at Carter with cold eyes before departing to prepare a new phase-2 for the contact operation, listed on paper as OPERATION: CALLBACK. Carter's gaze followed the Commander briefly as he walked to his command tent before shifting back to Noble Team.

"Alright, I assume Shepard gave you the bulk of it, so I'm not even going there," he began, looking at the S-III's in their customized MJOLNIR Power Armor, which was obviously their first mistake.

"Anyone care to tell me what went wrong?" Carter asked, raising an eyebrow beneath his helmet.

_**Shepard's Command Tent, 2187**_

Commander Shepard looked over his command center, reviewing the plans for phase-2 of operation: CALLBACK. Dervish had laid out an incredibly clever-yet-difficult plan of infiltration, hoping that getting himself and Shepard into the colony would enable them an easy way to reach the _Spirit of Fire_'s CO, and from there open relations and re-introduction into galactic society.

"All we need is for the Normandy to induce a low level EMP directed at their database facility," Dervish said, gesturing to an image of a large, one-story building with the words "Data Storage" emblazoned on the side in extremely large letters. "Now, there's a storm front approaching the colony, which will provide excellent cover for the Normandy. During that storm you and I will infiltrate the colony and, during the ensuing black-out, insert our covers into the database." Dervish finished, passing the file containing their respective cover IDs across the table.

"Won't the sudden addition of two people look suspicious?" Shepard asked, always taking the role of the skeptic when it came to infiltration ops. Dervish chuckled, obviously having an answer to that question.

"Not at all," Dervish replied, his eyes quickly glancing at his omni-tool. "The colony is big enough that two people could live their entire live unnoticed." Two more overlays of the colony were projected onto Shepard's command table.

"Alright then, let's get this party started." The Commander said, already opening a channel to the Normandy.

_****UNKNOWN STAR SYSTEM** UNSC Spirit of Fire Command Bridge, 2187**_

Captain James Gregory Cutter, United Nations Space Command Navy, Colonization Division, looked out at the world below him. Named "Columbus Prime" after the ancient explorer, the crew and colonials had known it as home for the last forty years. The _Spirit of Fire_ had been Cutter's first command, given to him when he was merely a young man of 22. Now, at the age of 63, almost 64, Cutter was beginning to plan his retirement. The only reason he'd even been in command as long as he had was an overall lack of contact with UNSC High Command.

Looking at his comm panel, Cutter opened a frequency to Duncan down in Colonial Command, hoping to warn him of the approaching storm and get a report on the anomalies picked up the other night.

"Duncan, this is Cutter. Status report." The aged Captain said, his voice filled with an air of fatigue.

"Nothing major, sir. One of the patrols got spooked by some wildlife and their comms went down for a while." Lt. Duncan replied rather rapidly, catching the old Captain off-guard.

"As for the anomalies, we found some impact craters with burnt up drag-chutes around them." Duncan concluded, waiting for a response from Cutter.

_Drag-chutes? _Cutter thought. The old Captain knew what this meant, both for the colony and humanity. "So, we're not alone then?" Cutter asked, his voice just loud enough for the comm picked it up and relayed the question to Lt. Duncan.

"Well sir, that's the odd part. The Marking on the metal, well…They're human." Duncan answered, again catching Cutter off-guard.

"Human? What the hell do you mean, boy?" Cutter asked in intense confusion.

Duncan paused briefly, either due to his own confusion or comm lag. "That's just it sir. The marking are human, complete with English letterings and numerical marks, all ending with the same three letters: HSA." The commander said, deepening the sense of confusion in Captain Cutter.

Cutter switched off the comm with a quiet "Thank You," to the Lieutenant before moving to his proper seat on the bridge. "Human markings," Cutter repeated, still in complete confusion. Forty years since they arrived in the system and now UFOs with human marking show up in the sky? Cutter had too much running through his mind to even notice the small craft cruising through Columbus Prime's upper atmosphere.

"What the hell does this all mean?" He asked himself, massaging his temples in an effort to fight off a developing headache.

_**Columbus Prime, Unidentified Colony, 2187**_

Dervish quickly activated his EMP shielding as his VISR showed the outline of the SSV Normandy SR-2 swooping towards the surface of the planet, now identified as Columbus Prime, preparing to deliver the EMP. The storm looming overhead provided the perfect cover for the operation. The blast would temporarily shut down the electrical grid for the colony, causing data corruption inside the central database facility. In the ensuing chaos, Dervish and Shepard would infiltrate the facility and implant the file containing their cover IDs, thus allowing them free movement through the colony.

The only problem: The antiquated UNSC technology. The old tech had the unfortunate property of being an obstacle for Dervish's new, Council era technology. Luckily for him and Shepard, there was always a solution.

"I have a couple of adapters for such a purpose." Dervish announced as they breached the colony's perimeter, careful to avoid the patrols. Shepard was geared in his Terminus Stealth/Assault Armor, fully equipped with an integrated tactical cloak and noise reducer. Dervish, on the other hand, chose a highly customized set of SPI Armor procured from the S-III's supplies. Needless to say, their stealth technologies were near evenly matched.

_**Meanwhile on Earth...**_

Two lone human soldiers watch the skies as the colossal machines rain death and destruction upon the sprawling megatroplis of Los Angeles, USA. The first, a tall muscular marine by the name of Stockes, motions toward a bombed out building.

"On three, we move." Stockes whispers, raising three fingers and tilting his head towards the buidling. Mouthing the numbers in a painfully slow count-down, the other marine preps for the move.

Three. Stockes lowers one finger, then disengages the safety mechanism on his Mattock Rifle.

Two. The second marine, Lockehardt, loads new thermal clips into his pistol and Revenant LMG.

One. Both marines spring out from behind their concrete shelter and make a mad dash for the building.

"25 meters!" Stockes yells at Lockhardt, sweeping his gaze left, then right, searching for hostiles.

"Tango spotted!" Lockhardt screams, firing eight round bursts from his Revenant. Stockes turns, crouches, then fires at the target.

The husk's skull splits, spilling a sickly combination of meat and machine oil onto the rubble. Two more stumble around a nearby corner, followed closely by the hulking silhouette of a Scion.

"Scion! Get in the building!" Stockes yells, making an Olympic sprint into the building. Lockhardt sidesteps his way towards the building, keeping his Revenant trained on the approaching horde.

"You want some, you zombified piece of shit!" Lockhardt yells, his machine gun thudding armor piercing rounds at the Scion. Stockes pops out of a window, his rifle ending the misery of another three husks.

"Lockhardt! Get in here!" he screams. The Scion roars as its Mass Accelerator sends a powerful shockwave towards Lockhardt. Seeing the pulse of blue-black energy racing toward him, Lockhardt dives toward the building, continuing to stream bullets at the Scion.

Another angry roar comes from the Scion as its energy generators overload, causing it to erupt into a magnificent show of blue light. Stockes and Lockhardt, upon seeing this, breath a sigh of relief.

"Good job out there, man." Stockes says, clapping Lockhardt on the shoulder. Lockhardt doesn't reply, his eyes locked on the machines ripping the cityscape apart.

Stockes follows his gaze, smiling when he sees an Alliance ship break through the clouds. "There's our secret weapon," he says, gesturing to the old UNSC-designed frigate, complete with an old MAC Gun. "Let 'em have it, boys. Let 'em have it."

Mechanized roars fill the air as MAC rounds tear into the Reaper ships, splitting their hulls like tissue paper. One explodes, the shockwave sending the another careening into the landscape below. Lockhardt sees this and grins. "Well, Lieutenant," he says, his grin now a full blown smile, "Looks like we took back LA."

_**Council Chambers, Citadel, 2187**_

Anderson smiled as he saw humanity's slow reclamation of it's homeworld. Not two weeks ago, the Reapers had launched an invasion of Citadel space, taking Earth in the process. Luckily, the reinforcements and re-commissioned UNSC ships managed to punch a good-sized whole in the Reaper blockade. The other councilors stood over their respective terminals, locked in communiques with their own homeworlds. Anderson opened two more files containing reports on the other war being fought. The Covenant seem to have their own problems with the Reapers. Anderson chuckled.

"Only a matter of time before they propose some kind of treaty." he half-whispered, still too quiet for the other councilors to hear.

"Anderson! Any news from Earth?" Velarn asked from across the room. Anderson smiled and began walking over to him. Today was going to be a good day.

_**Columbus Prime, Unidentified Colony, 2187**_

Shepard watched patiently as Dervish worked his techno-magic on the colony's database building. The locks were electronic, and they had roughly fifteen seconds before the Normandy would release its EMP, thus disabling the locking mechanism and denying them entry to the facility. Dervish checked his timer as he popped the panel off the door's keypad lock, taking the wires and attaching them to the necessary adapters. _Ten seconds_. The timer is now flashing red, alerting Dervish of their minimal time. Effortlessly, Dervish applied the code-sequence to bypass the door's security systems.

_Five seconds_, the timer flashed as the door mechanism whirred to life, slowly opening itself in the dark of night.

Three.

Two.

One.

Lighting struck two radio control towers as the Normandy released the EMP, causing a colony-wide blackout. Dervish smiled and squeezed through the opening in the door, Shepard not far behind.

"This is too easy." He said as they proceeded down the hall. Two more turns and another locked door are all that stand between them and their cover story. Unfortunately for them, no-one had foreseen the security team waiting just outside the server room.

"Freeze!" one of the guards yelled, shining a small spotlight on Dervish and Shepard.

"Shit." Shepard growled as he and Dervish raised their hands. The whole mission just got compromised.

"This is Dat-Guard Five. We have two non-colonial humanoids in the data-facility." the spotlight guard said over his comm. A brief flare of static sounded over his comm unit before his unexpected response.

"Bring them to Cutter for questioning." the voice said over the comm, some static bleeding into his voice.

Shepard cast a look at Dervish in a questioning manner. Dervish replied with a "too low" gesture, referring to the EMP, which had failed to fully disable the colony's systems.

The two were swiftly cuffed and escorted to an old Pelican Drop-Ship, and from there they were delivered to the _Spirit of Fire_ to meet with someone by the name of Cutter.

_**UNSC Spirit of Fire, Combus Prime Orbit, 2187**_

Captain Cutter eyed the two humans suspiciously, wondering how and why they breached his colony. The two looked back at him with blank, expressionless faces. He knew they wouldn't talk, but he tried anyway.

"One going in." he called over the intercom, signalling the guard to unlock the door to the detainment room. Cutter sighed as he entered the room, still confused as to how these two managed to get into the system undetected. The taller one, who wore strange looking red and black armor, avoided all eye-contact, a technique typical of men who had nothing to say. The other, a similarly tall man with even stranger almost-invisible armor, sat quietly and awaiting the endless barrage of questions.

"Boys, I'm going to get straight to the point," Cutter said, laying a small data-pad on the table in front of him. "I'm Captain James Cutter, and I want to know what the hell you're doing in my system!"

Shepard and Dervish both jumped when they heard the man's name. Shepard spoke first.

"Captain James Gregory Cutter? Captain of the UNSC Spirit of Fire and CO of the Colombus Expedition?" he asked, a look of shock and awe on his face. Dervish just sat, slack-jawed with amazement.

Now Cutter was really confused. The two men looked at him as though he were a ghost. He blinked hard before giving them an answer.

"Yes. Captain James Gregory Cutter, born August 28, 2123. Why do you ask?" he says, hoping that he can get one good answer out of these men.

"I'm Lieutenant Commander John Shepard, Human Systems Alliance Marines and Officer of Citadel Special Tactics and Reconnaissance," Shepard replies, causing Cutter to raise an eyebrow. "My crew and I were sent here to recover your ship. A lot has changed, Captain Cutter."

Cutter sinks into a chair in the room, confusion tearing at his brain. "Well, Commander, you found us." Cutter says with a brief spell of laughter. "You found us."\

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**AN: **Hi readers! hope you've enjoyed this chapter. Let me know if you like the Meanwhile on Earth segments in the reviews. More to come later, I promise!


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